


Achilles' Heel, Patroclus' Heart

by MercuryandMoonlight



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pon Farr, Romance, Spork, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Culture, all amazing ship names, discovery-compliant, idiots who need to admit they're in love and get married already omg, kock - Freeform, spirk, u know...the biology of vulcans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 07:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryandMoonlight/pseuds/MercuryandMoonlight
Summary: Spock feels the burning in his blood once more. He knows what this means. Jim nearly died last time. This time, he won't get the chance. Spock is determined to leave and solve the deadly problem himself, as quickly and quietly as possible. When the people who care about him have to hear about it through Starfleet command, there will be Hell to pay and Bones is the first in line ready to bend that pointed ear.





	1. The Heart Listens, The Heart Beats (You Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Post- Amok Time, Pre- Journey to Babel.
> 
> I wrote this in like an hour because randomly when I have zero time, this wouldn't leave me alone. It felt so good to write again. I hope I have more time to catch up soon. Enjoy!

    Dr. Leonard H. McCoy has gotten several complaints about his bedside manner but every single patient has always left him a satisfied and healthy customer, all complaints rescinded when they recognized his surly manner for the tough love and concern that it is. Bones had a habit of going from grizzly bear to teddy bear in 2 seconds flat and it was a feature most beloved by his closest friends. When Jim invited him over for drinks and had already finished half a bottle of Romulan ale by himself, Bones ranted for a full minute about how outer space makes people lose all sense of common decency and decorum before he noticed the tear-stained cheeks of his friend reflecting in the low light. Without a moment's hesitation, he was at Jim's side, the very picture of comfort that every doctor and friend should be at such a time. Ever the considerate soldier marching on, Jim smiled through his tears and poured out a glass for Bones, inviting him to get comfortable before beginning his sorrowful tale.

 

    “So what happened? What's this all about, Jim?” Bones hadn't touched his drink yet, foregoing his Southern etiquette for a clear head better suited to helping his friend.

 

    “It's my own fault, Bones. I was a fool to think I ever knew him at all, that maybe perhaps someday there would be a chance, a place for us, that he could ever see me and look at me that way.”

 

    Brow knitted with barely concealed rage, Bones lashed out. “What the hell has he done this time?!”    

 

    His best friend was an open book to him, and to most people quite honestly. Jim never hid his feelings about anything. That sort of honesty was rare. As a Star-ship Captain, he had to keep up appearances of being decisive and uncompromising but that was only half of the truth. Jim always followed his gut as much as he could and his reputation preceded him as a man of honor, intelligence, cleverness, loyalty, and compassion because at his core, he was all of these things. His crew knew that he expected them to follow orders to the letter but they must think for themselves as well, and he led by example because intentions count as much as results so he would support anyone with the right ideals, even if the actions lead to unforeseen consequences. They felt safe in his hands, trusted him, and so were the most loyal crew in all of Starfleet. James T. Kirk would have no end to the number of people who would love to count themselves among his close friends but his life is dedicated to Starfleet and few people can maintain close friendship under such conditions. Bones was happy that he was one of the few.

 

    Looking at his friend, there was no question. He didn't even have to ask. Jim only spoke in such a way about one person. For as long as Bones has known Jim, he's had many potential loves. People came into Jim's life, like moths flitting towards a bright light-bulb, banging against it and finding no entry, then flitting off into the night with disappointment. The man's heart was easy and open. Bones envied this. He knew that he was often called the 'heart' of the Enterprise, the emotional angelic doctor on Jim's shoulder while the logical Vulcan sat on the other side, the 'brain' of the Enterprise. While the heart and the brain were busy thinking and feeling and arguing, Jim sat between them as the very 'soul' of the Enterprise, for without him, it would be empty.

 

    “He hasn't done anything wrong. I'm a fool. I thought I understood him. I thought we were close. I thought we were best friends but what can that mean? We're from two totally different cultures!”

 

    “But he's half human! His blood's not that green!”

 

    “It doesn't have to be. He was raised as a Vulcan, his culture is Vulcan. That's who he is, and any humanity he has, he fights against. He doesn't want to be human. I just assumed. I'm such a fool. All this time, my gestures of friendship, my affection, he must have been just barely tolerating it. What he must think of me!”

 

    “He thinks the world of you, Jim, and if you don't see that then you are a fool!” Bones took a sip of the strong liquor and shut his eyes. “Dammit, Jim, what is this all about?”

 

    “He's leaving.” Bones has never seen his friend look so dejected, so heartbroken, in his life. Losing this love would be like ripping his own heart out. Jim might not survive it, wouldn't be the same. In the past, when he'd lost lovers, it was inevitable and no one's fault so he mourned, healed, moved on. A scarred heart still beats but a broken heart?

 

    “What do you mean, he's leaving? Where? Why? When?” Bones had drained half his cup and as loud as he was when upset and sober, he was even louder upset and drunk. ' _Thank God for privacy shields on private quarters,'_ he thought as he felt the tingle of inebriation warming his body _. 'And thank God for liquid comfort to make this conversation easier.'_

 

    “That's something probably only another Vulcan would know. Certainly not his human best friend.”

 

    “You mean he didn't even bother to explain?” The humorless chuckle that fell from Jim's ale-soaked lips pierced his chest like a phaser-blast. When those same lips quivered, fighting to release the next words, thick with forthcoming tears, he knew he'd be having words with Spock before the night was over.

 

    “Bones, he didn't even bother to tell me. I had to hear it through an official request from Starfleet command to approve an indefinite leave of absence and prompt delivery to Vulcan, ASAP, under direct petition from T'Pau herself! I'm to relinquish all records of service including any additional and final commendations at my earliest convenience!”

 

    “That cold-blooded... why I ought-a...” Bones finished off his glass and poured them each another, glowering darkly and torn between marching over to Spock's room right now with a firm right hook and a terse 'what gives?' and the desire to stay with Jim. He chose the latter because he was more logical than he cared to admit.

 

    “It's not Spock's fault. That's Vulcan culture. I'm the one who imposed human culture on him, who interpreted his actions through human eyes. It's my fault.”

 

    Jim often stated that the Enterprise was his true love but it was a tumultuous affair. It was both his freedom and his captivity. Those people who came into his life found little room to establish themselves and little desire to compete with the vast and great adventure of the final frontier. Bones recalled when Jim had been the closest to his heart's desire, to find someone to spend his life with, that boyhood dream of a warm and happy home, a family, a life. Her name was Edith Keeler and she was the very soul of goodness, a truly kind person, an intelligent and beautiful person, and Jim had fallen faster and harder than ever.

 

    Bones believed that if Spock had not seen the possibility of returning to their duty with such logical clarity, if he had known that it would be completely hopeless and that they were well and truly trapped in that life free of their sworn duties to the Enterprise and Starfleet, that resigned to their fate they would have begun a new life together. Spock would be a scientist, of course, logically using his knowledge to efficiently improve Earth before it's time, perhaps accelerate technology and warn Vulcan of future ills they could correct. Jim would be a professor of philosophy and history, who also dabbled in politics to make the world a better place. Without the shackles of duty, Jim would be free to pursue his love and perhaps Spock would determine it was logical enough to let him. Earth at the time would be a dangerous place for their love but they would face that danger head-on, together, as always. If Bones hadn't been out of his mind at the time, he would have yelled all of this at them, with love. He wouldn't let the chance pass again, inebriation be damned.

 

    Jim spent a good half hour fighting the fatigue of the day, emotional exhaustion, and CNS-depressant properties of the ale intermittently crying on Bones' shoulder (soaking through the thin material of the casual uniform) and lamenting the loss of their friend. When he finally gave in and was falling asleep, Bones guided him over to the couch and draped a blanket across him, gently patting his cheek before rising with purpose, turning on his heel, and crossing through the shared bathroom to knock forcefully on the door of Spock's private quarters.

 

    Spock opened the door and had only a moment to take in the good doctor's disheveled state before the haranguing began.

 

    “YOU POINTY-EARED, COLD-BLOODED, GREEN HOBGOBLIN OF A DEVIL!!! YOU LOUSY HEARTLESS, SOULLESS, UN-FEELING, POOR EXCUSE OF A MAN!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE? MY GOD IN HEAVEN, DO YOU HAVE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST IDEA? DO THEY TEACH ABOUT FRIENDSHIP AND LOYALTY ON VULCAN OR JUST HOW TO CHANGE OUT YOUR BATTERIES EVERY 50-ODD YEARS, YOU ROBOTIC SON OF A BITCH?!?! I OUGHT-A WRING YOUR NECK!!! I OUGHT-A CLOBBER YOU ROUND THOSE POINTED EARS AND KNOCK SOME DAMNED SENSE INTO--”

 

    “Doctor! That is quite enough! I have enacted the privacy shields remotely but this senseless tirade is highly illogical--”

 

    “TO HELL AND DAMNATION WITH YOUR FUCKING LOGIC, SPOCK!!! POOR JIM IS HEARTBROKEN!!! CRIED HIMSELF TO SLEEP BECAUSE OF YOU!!! YOU'RE HIS BEST FRIEND AND YOU GUTTED HIM LIKE A DAMNED FISH!!!” Bones, full of drunken fury, took a swing and missed, launching himself towards the laundry basket. Spock caught him before he landed face-first.

 

    “Doctor, please!” It was unlike Spock to raise his voice so that, mixed with his current odd position of being cradled quite gently in Spock's strong arms, sobered him up quite a bit. He was raised back to a standing position. “If you please, Doctor, come inside and have a seat so we may discuss your grievance peaceably.”

 

    Shaken by his racing emotions, Bones nodded dumbly. Burning off his anger with that display left his underlying sadness and concern exposed. It was uncomfortable and he wished for another glass of ale. Sitting across from Spock in his quarters felt far too intimate. They were close friends, of course, but of different cultures. While Bones often invited Jim and Spock into his own rooms for chess or cards or drinks, Spock never returned the favor. Bones had only been in his quarters on official business, for a crisis, or on the rare occasion that Spock needed medical attention. He didn't know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. It was dreadfully awkward and Spock's impassive expression was making it worse.

 

    “I'm sorry about that--”

 

    “Please, Bones, no apology is needed. I am unharmed. As a human, you alone would never have been able to harm me and your actions could not offend or upset me as I do not experience such wild emotional reactions--”

 

    “Cut the shit, Spock! I am too tired and too drunk, or not drunk enough, to do this Vulcan bullshit with you! Now, I'm sorry, I respect your culture even if I don't understand it, but you have to know that doing this, leaving without even talking to Jim about it, you had to know it would hurt him. Quite frankly, he's not the only one who's hurting, either.”

 

    “Then I believe it is my turn to apologize.”

 

    “I'd prefer an explanation.”

 

    “It is...an intensely private and personal matter.”

 

    “Of course. What the hell isn't, with you? Alright, fine. Don't tell me. You gotta talk to Jim, though. This is killing him. You gotta tell him something, man. Take some pity on him.”

 

    “That is something I would never do, to take pity on a man greater than I could ever be. I will attempt to clarify the situation with him, however.”

 

    “Good. That's all I ask.” Bones rose to his feet unsteadily and found Spock's strong grip steadying him.

 

    “As a doctor, you should be aware of the limiting effects of your inebriation. It would be logical to allow me to assist you back to your quarters to avoid injury and embarrassment.”

 

    “Did you just logic you way into stopping me from making an ass of myself in front of the crew?”

 

    “It is something I have grown disturbingly familiar with during my time here.”

 

    “Yeah, every day your blood gets a little bit redder and you can hide it from everyone else but I know you love it.”

 

    “I haven't the faintest idea of what you could possibly mean, Doctor. My blood is the same color it has always been, as indicated in your medical records.”

 

    “Yeah, yeah. Well, I'll miss you anyway.” Spock paused as he entered the code to Bones' rooms, taken aback by the comment and especially by the warmth behind it. He cleared his throat.

 

    “I should regret my departure as well. Know that it is not without just cause.”

 

    “ I know.” If it weren't for the strict cultural dictations surround touching with Vulcans, Bones would have hugged him and he thinks Spock would have allowed it but he meant what he said about respecting Vulcan culture. As a doctor, Bones made it his mission to be familiar with many cultures as it was an important part of patient care. For a moment, he saw Spock lean a bit closer, saw his expression soften, and he could practically feel the sorrow radiating off of him. Then, it was gone.

 

    “Goodnight, Spock.”

 

    “Goodbye, Leonard. Live long and prosper.” With a Vulcan salute, Spock turned and left, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him. He hoped Jim could convince him to stay. Even after all his heartache, Bones still believed love was the strongest force in the universe.

 


	2. The Mind Weeps, The Soul Heals

    The next day was awkward. Bones was storming around, grumpier than a gator with all them teeth and no toothbrush, glowering at Spock whenever he encountered him. Christine Chapel, widely known as the angel of mercy and generally a sweet human being, did not take kindly to it and pulled him aside for a good talking to. When it was done, she was glowering at Spock right alongside him. The rest of the crew just assumed that Spock's Vulcan sensibilities had just rubbed them the wrong way. It happened often enough.

 

    Spock was almost imperceptibly gentler in tone and demeanor with Jim and somehow, that made it worse. The cruelty of kindness. Why show him mercy and prolong his suffering? It would be better if he really were some cold and heartless asshole that Jim could bid farewell without another thought but relief. Spock has never been that. It was almost the end of their shift when Starfleet contacted him on the bridge.

 

    “Captain? I have Starfleet command on hold for you, sir. They are requesting a brief conference to confirm... Mr. Spock's indefinite resignation?” Uhura looked between Jim and Spock, hurt and confusion evident in her beautiful face. The bridge went quiet before erupting into chaos.

 

    “His what-now, lassie?” Scotty dropped his new technical manual, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

 

    “Mr. Spock, you're leaving?” Sulu wavered between disbelief and shock, half turned in his chair.

 

    “That is not possible, right Captain?” Chekov swirled towards the Captain's chair behind him, his annoyed anger an obvious sign of his youth. Sulu sat much more composed next to him, checking again that they were on cruise-control before turning back to the scene Chekov was sure to make.

 

    Yeoman Rand stood with her pad behind the Captain's chair, watching the scene unfold. It was distressing to her and she didn't even know Spock that well but she knew Uhura was close to him and made a note to invite her for some hot cocoa later.

 

    “Gentlemen, please.” Jim looked resigned, annoyed, and tired. They were torn, knowing this must be a great wound to him especially but they all wanted to know.

 

    “Aye, ye canna be serious!”

 

    “That's enough! I'll not keep Starfleet waiting on dramatics! Lt. Uhura, put them on screen, please.”

 

    “Yes, Captain.” Uhura pulled up the vid-com, unable to help still glancing between Jim and Spock. They were both her friends and she just wished she knew what was going on, wanted the shift to be done so she could comfort them, or better yet, bring them to their senses.

 

    An unfamiliar Admiral appeared on-screen. “Captain James T. Kirk, I am Admiral Philippa Georgiou. Have all documents been submitted for Spock's leave of absence?”

 

    “Yes, Admiral. I just require the signature of the ship's doctor for medical clearance and our business will be concluded. I will submit the documents as soon as possible.”

 

    “That would be wise. Commander Spock, I received a personal call from T'Pau this morning. She is beautiful and terrifying. Do make sure to update her with your progress.”

 

    “Admiral Georgiou, you and she have that in common.”

 

    “I will give Commander Burnham your regards.”

 

    “Thank you, Admiral.”

 

    The screen went blank and silence reigned for a moment longer before the questions began anew.

 

    “Alright, that's quite enough! I know we will all miss Commander Spock but his reasons for leaving are his own private affair and not to be discussed on the bridge. If you wish to speak with him off-duty about the matter, that is entirely up to him but do respect his privacy.” Jim glanced at his watch. “It's officially the end of shift. Dismissed.”

 

    Walking at what he hoped was a moderate pace, Jim made the long walk back to his quarters. It felt like miles and hours though he'd made it back in a record 3 minutes. Somehow, of course, Spock had made it back faster and was waiting for Jim, pouring a fresh pot of tea.

 

    “Please forgive my intrusion, Jim. It seemed imperative that we speak at the earliest possible convenience.”

 

    He wanted to be angry but the image of Spock pouring out what smelled like a delicious cup of jasmine tea with honey, his favorite but Spock's 9th favorite after a variety of Vulcan teas and Earth Chai, the very picture of sweet domesticity, caught him off-guard. All the anger drained from him like a deflating balloon. Now he was just tired and sad and aching to share that cup of tea with his best friend. It may not mean the same thing to Spock but it means everything to him and he was going to savor every last moment they had together.

 

    “Jasmine and honey, Spock? That's only your 9th favorite tea.” He tried to smile. He didn't want Spock to be uncomfortable. He wanted Spock to be so comfortable that he decided to stay forever.

 

    The statement took him by surprise. “You remembered.” A ghost of a smile on his lips, the familiar little quirk that Jim had often mistaken for affection. Perhaps it was just genuine amusement at his human antics. It was a depressing thought. Spock continued as Jim sipped the tea, tension melting from his body as he slumped into his chair. Spock sat in the closest chair at the table. “I thought it appropriate. Bones indicated you were upset and this is your favorite.”

 

    “You remembered, too.” Jim couldn't help his smile now and the warmth blossoming in his chest. It was ridiculous, fool-hardy. Of course Spock remembered, he was a genius and a Vulcan with a memory like a computer but with less errors. It didn't mean anything. He was attaching his human sentiments to logical behaviors. The tea was doing little to stifle the sharp pang that stabbed at the center of him at that realization. He has walked through this friendship with rose-colored glasses on. Spock would know, it was probably obvious. He'd made a fool of himself. He stared dejectedly into his tea, one tear slipping down his face and falling into his tea, creating beautiful ripples over the blossom at the bottom, rustling the petals. He felt a warm, strong hand on his shoulder, almost feverish. It squeezed him gently, then slipped away.

 

    “Jim, I am sorry. I believed it would be easier this way. Obviously, I have erred and in so doing, injured you most severely. This was not my intention.”

 

    “I know. It seemed logical. Why carry on about it?”

 

    “Jim--”

 

    “No, no. It's my fault. Projecting human sentiment onto clearly logical Vulcan actions--”

 

    “Perhaps there is more to it than that.” Spock pressed his lips together, something he did when he was debating whether to say something or not.

 

    “What is it?” Jim's pain was momentarily forgotten in favor of Spock's distress.

 

    “Many people forget that I am human as well. You and Bones are my closest friends. I did not think you would forget as well.” He almost sounded...hurt? But that couldn't be right.

 

    “Spock?”

 

    “This is incredibly painful for me, Jim. To speak of this, it is not Vulcan, but I am human too. Painful as it is, I will explain. I owe you that, at the very least.”

 

    “Spock, you don't owe me anything.” Jim placed his hand over Spock's, which was resting in front of his untouched teacup. He'd forgotten himself, forgotten the cultural norms of touching, and only realized when he saw Spock looking down at their hands, and pulled his away, murmuring an apology.

 

    “That is where we disagree.” There was a faint sheen of sweat on Spock's forehead, making his hair damp and slightly curled. He loved when Spock's hair got curly though he knew Spock hated it. A stray droplet made it's way down the side of Spock's face, down his long neck, to disappear beneath his shirt. He saw Spock swallow, a nervous human trait. He must be extremely distressed. Not once during this whole interaction had he looked at Jim. All of his sadness disappeared into worry.

 

    “Spock, please tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, I'll do whatever I can to help you. Even if I don't understand it because it's a Vulcan thing, I will try. Talk to me.” The concern in Jim's voice brought Spock's gaze to his, finally, and he saw a quiet desperation in those dark brown eyes.

 

    “Jim, I-- I will not allow you to be hurt again because of me.”

 

    “What? Spock, what are you talking about? Listen, I don't care what it is, if you need my help, you've got it. Just tell me what I can do.”

 

    “No, I cannot allow it, not again.”

 

    “Spock, please! What do you mean, again?” Jim grabbed both shoulders and spun Spock in his chair to face him. He was practically begging but he didn't care. Spock was clearly in enough danger that he was worried for Jim as well. He shook Spock and asked again.

 

    “My blood, it burns. Again.” Something like shame and regret crossed Spock's face, the faintest trace but clearly visible to someone who knew him so well.

 

    “Pon Farr? I thought it was every 7 years? What happened?”

 

    “I am unclear as to the cause. Full-blooded Vulcans experience this every 7 years, with some natural variation as is expected in a diverse population of complex carbon-based organisms in active states of evolutionary advancement. One of these natural variations is never experiencing Pon Farr. A certain percentage in each generation simply never experience it. They also do not experience sexual attraction. T'Pau is one of these examples. It is considered a blessing. A certain percentage also do not experience Pon Farr until they meet an ideal mate who is compatible with them upwards of 99.963%. I believed that perhaps I fell into the latter of those categories before but was unsure because my Vulcan blood is somewhat diluted with human elements. When it activated, I knew that my particular set of circumstances was unique and ill-defined in the current medical literature of Vulcan. I thought I had killed you last time. I do not know how or why it has begun again but I shall not risk the same events replaying. This time, I am without betrothal. I must seek the cause and the treatment, if such exists, on Vulcan. I know not when or if I may return but I cannot allow you to become involved and risk your life again.”

 

    “This is why you didn't tell me? Spock, we figured a way out of it last time, we can do it again. You don't have to leave. Let me come with--”

 

    “No!” Spock turned away violently and banged his fists on the table. He looked to be in pain, fighting the burning of his blood, the fever, the violence. Gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight, fists balled up, he repeated in a strained but calmer tone. “No.”

 

    “Spock, you are my best friend. I don't know what that means to you but I know what it means to me. It means if you need help, I'm there. It means I care for you.”

 

    “And I care for you. This is why I cannot let you accompany me. I fear--”

 

    “I can handle it--”

 

    “Jim, I fear that _you_ are the object of my affections.” Jim had never seen such despair in Spock. It seemed he was on the verge of tears. This reminded him of what Spock said to him some time ago. _“When I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed.”_

 

    “Spock, please--”

 

    “Jim, you are a good man, the best man I know, a kind man, a good and loyal friend. I know you wish to help me but you do not understand--”

 

    “Then _make_ me understand! This is worse than before, thinking you just didn't care. If it were me, I know you'd do everything to help me, you'd find a way. So will I.”

 

    This only seemed to pain Spock more and he rose out of his chair, crossing to the bathroom and walking straight through to his own room.

 

    “Spock!” Jim ran after him but the door was locked. He beat his fists on the door, calling for Spock, imploring and pleading to let him help. After a minute, Jim used his override code, fearing Spock would be hurting himself or someone else.

 

    He stopped dead in his tracks. The privacy shields were on so he hadn't heard Spock thrashing about, throwing things. His shirt was torn off and left in pieces on the floor. His table was upended, dishes broken, a chair in pieces. Spock stood shirtless, breathing heavily, eyes glazed over, a sheen on sweat over his body, knuckles bleeding from where he punched the wall. Jim crossed the distance between them and held Spock's hands in his own. Now he was angry again. This was idiotic and Spock was going to get himself hurt.

 

    “Stop this, you hear me? Fight it. We will get you to Vulcan and figure this out together and I'll not heard another word about it, you got it, mister? That's an order!”

 

    Spock's hands were trembling and he shut his eyes tight, lips pressed together, using all his strength to hold himself back.

 

    “Good, that's better. Let's get you down to Sick Bay. There's gotta be something Bones can give you to--”

 

    Spock had Jim up against the wall in a moment, gripping his hands, fingers intertwined, pressing them into the wall on either side of his head causing Jim's shirt to lift and he could feel the hot flesh of Spock's hard stomach against his. Spock pressed their foreheads together, panting into the space between them, eyes slightly open like he was looking into the sun.

 

    “Jim-- I cannot ask you to do this. You do not understand.”

 

    “Spock... If you're saying what I think you're saying... If I could help you like this, help you get through it, I would do it. I wouldn't mind at all, really--”

 

    “I have felt your mind before, every time you touch me when I least expect it and I cannot guard against the exchange, I know that you are attracted to me, I have seen and felt it since our first meeting, but this is not what you think. I beg your forgiveness for even now I am only barely in control because of your touch. It is not just a physical necessity, Jim. I care for you deeply. If ever a Vulcan could love, this would be it. Vulcans mate for life and I know that I could not ask--”

 

    Jim pressed his lips firmly against Spock's and the Vulcan melted against him, softening his grip and caressing his hands, practically purring against him. When he pulled back, Spock's eyes were deep and dark, endless.

 

    “You would never have to ask. I'm yours.” Jim's smile was wide and easy, the warmth blossoming in his chest like the soothing relief of honey jasmine tea.

 

    “I could never ask you to give this. Your duty, it comes first. You are, before all else, a Star-ship Captain.”

 

    “And you are, before all else, a Star-ship First Officer. _My_ First Officer. The best one I've ever had and absolutely essential to our ship, our crew, our mission. _Logically_ , I could not let you go. So, this would be part of that duty.”

 

    Spock looked at him in awe, an expression Jim had never seen so openly displayed by him before. “Logical. Flawlessly logical.” With that almost reverent whisper, Spock closed the distance between them and kissed his Captain more gently and sweetly than he'd ever kissed anyone.

 

    That small quirk of his lips returned making Spock, still pressed against him, shirtless feverish body shining in the low light of the room, look extremely enticing. It stirred something distinctly familiar in Jim's lower belly and he wondered when he should ask about the unusual bulge pressing into his hip.

 

    “Captain? Should we attend to our duties?” Spock's eyebrow shot upwards with a perfect arch, the lilting and melodic tone of his deep voice making Jim want to giggle like a giddy idiot.

 

    Smiling softly and squeezing Spock's hands gently, he replied, practically a puddle of mush in his best friend's embrace.

 

    “Why of course, Mr. Spock. After you.”

 

    What a fool he'd been, and would continue to be for as long as Spock allowed.

 

 


End file.
